Child's Play
by imagines writes
Summary: With a promise and a soft touch, her work is done. [RyouAmane for 30—kisses. Contains weirdness, death, and British siblings.]


Disclaimer: I don't own Yuugiou. I wrote this for fun, not for profit.

30-kisses, 4. _our distance and that person_

Constructive criticism is welcome.

**Child's Play**

_For Emma and her amazing muse-skillz._

_  
Don't know what you lie for anyway_

_Now there's nothing left to say_

_For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time_

Keane - Nothing In My Way

-

It's easy: all it takes is a teeth-gritting promise; then Amane's hurtling down away from blinding light, constricted by the arms of a colossal guardian whose eyes blaze like the meteor shower occurring off to their left. She closes her eyes and remembers the cabrio, blue as the summer sky, whose hood stayed down so the wind whipped laughter out of her mouth. She clings to the laughter, and pushes away the image of that car smashed and burning, the harsh smell of petrol a warning that she must get away if she valued her life--

--forget how her legs wouldn't move, just remember her mother's head thrown back, laughing and smiling like the world would never end.

The guardian's flight halts above a house that slants in every direction but up. The sun is pushing through the rolling river-mist, and its weak light glints off the wet patch of grass pretending to be a front yard. When the guardian lowers her to the ground, she can't feel the damp beneath her feet. For a moment she considers bursting into tears, but she promised she was strong, and strong she will be. She watches the guardian rise with the sun. It doesn't look back.

She looks the house over, trying to picture Ryou living in such a shabby place (if he's even still-- no, don't finish that thought). An upstairs window has got boards tacked over it. Half the shingles are missing. The stoop is crumbling and mossy, and she wriggles her toes as she steps onto it, trying to remember what moss felt like.

When she touches the doorknob, it slides through her fingers like she is as insubstantial as the fog. She wonders how else she might get into the house, but then there's movement inside through the white curtains at the window. (Mother made them; she remembers long hours spent by their old home's fireplace, chatting about everything and nothing while Mother twisted white thread into beautiful knots.)

The door opens, and it's Ryou. He's changed in the years since she last saw him. He's paler, more gaunt; she knows there weren't always dark circles around his eyes. He doesn't realize she's there, until she tries to straighten his collar and puts her hand straight through his chest instead. "Oh," he says, and shudders like a gust of wind had struck him. Amane pulls her hand back and bites her lip. They'd said he wouldn't be able to see her. She'd promised that would be okay.

He's clutching his chest and his eyes are wild, looking but not seeing. Then she walks straight through him into the house. He cringes and follows, blind to just what it is he's following.

Then he _shifts_ somehow, and at once she's very sure it's not Ryou standing there. "Look at you," says the creature that's not Ryou. "He told me you were beautiful, but I never thought I'd see you for myself. Aren't you supposed to be dead?-- ah, you are. I see the bracelets." It seats itself in a dusty armchair, and leans forward to scrutinize her wrists.

Self-conscious, she clasps her hands behind her back to hid the red knotted-string bracelets, and examines the creature. It could be Ryou's twin, but for the rough edges and mad eyes.

"I've got a bit of death-jewelry myself," it says. It reaches down its shirt and pulls out a thick gold ring, heavy with dangling spikes. "But that is a story for your brother to tell. That is, if he ever notices you're here." False sympathy glazes its words.

"He knows I'm here," she says. Lies are okay if they'll help someone, and she is creating a pretty one for herself and for Ryou.

"He knows _something_ is here, but you could be a monster, for all he can see."

The truth bites into her lie and rips it like so many cobwebs. "What are_ you_, then?" She laughs, the sound as dry and twisted as a withered blossom. "If I am a monster, what's the name given to a being who preys on human minds?"

"I'm more important than that," says the creature, brushing invisible lint from its sleeve. "I'm the greatest thief who ever lived. Long ago I plundered tombs; now I prefer to ransack minds. I am currently in possession of this host's body and soul. Soon I will have his heart and his kiss as well." Its teeth glint a narrow smile. "I'll protect him from the world. This frail body holds a mind that's shot to bits. I'm all that's holding it together."

"That's not your place. You weren't given permission."

"Tsk, tsk. Like you should talk. I should inform you that I have access to all of his memories. I know what you did to him." Its words are laced with acid.

"I did nothing he didn't want." Amane folds her arms, as if they'll shield her from the coming attack.

But the blitz does not come. Instead the creature shrugs, and leans back in the chair, a judge about to declare a verdict. "Don't believe me? Ask your precious brother yourself."

There's that shift again, and it's Ryou in the chair. He glances around the room, and seeing nothing, he sags farther into the cushions and closes his eyes. "It's lying again, always lies coming out of its mouth," he whispers, and Amane's heart is shattering incredibly slowly from the pain in his voice. "I should have never hoped."

There's no use speaking; she won't be heard. She goes to her brother and slips her hand into his, twining her spirit into flesh and bone and the pencil lead from when she accidentally stabbed his palm. His body jerks, but she doesn't remove her hand.

"Ah. You've learned to play ghost," he says, focussing where her eyes would be if she were a bit taller. At least he's trying.

This is what she wants to say: _I can't let you love a dead man._

This is what she says: "I love you," and "You'll see me soon."

It's easy: all it takes is her other hand inside his chest, and the body's frail heart slows and halts. Behind its eyes, a dark thing laughs. She takes her brother's hand and they rise through the roof, through the sky and past a meteor shower to their left.


End file.
